The Lake House

Noah sighed. He’d got the social media accounts up and running and scheduled a week’s worth of content. He’d made a list of blogs and listings pages that may be interested in running features on the White Hart. He’d coaxed a few of the White Hart staff to create their own pages and then had a difficult conversation with Mrs Tuesday to persuade her to only like and share family-friendly content. He couldn’t put it off any longer. He had to start on the coffee book.

He pulled a pizza delivery menu out of the box and read the flowery script inked along the edges. Coffee comes from the mystical lands of Arabia and Abyssinia, fabled home of the phoenix and source of the mystical frankincense (available at the White Hart starting at £5.99 for 50g plus post and packaging and the packaging is really nice).

Noah winced. Apart from anything else, you couldn’t put a price in a book that could be around for years. He tapped the content into his word document, carefully editing ‘£5.00’ to ‘competitively priced’. He could hear Lady Freydis outside the door.

“I don’t see the problem,” she said.

“You didn’t paint that picture,” a man’s voice growled. “You bought it from eBay. Callum is working very hard to be an artist.” He sounded like Jeanette’s husband.

“I want to be supportive,” Lady Freydis said.

Noah shook his head. The next quote was scrawled across the back of a supermarket receipt. Great fortunes were won and lost in shares traded in the coffee houses of London, although the South Sea Bubble was somewhat of a problem. Note to ghost – was the South Sea Bubble Tudor or Victorian? I can’t remember.

“He’s worked so hard on his art,” the man said. “You could hold an exhibition of his stuff instead of printing off a picture of a lake house.” Noah stood ready to dash out if needed. Lady Freydis was a major nuisance and definitely willing to be the grit in someone’s Vaseline but he didn’t want her intimidated. “You know what the lad went through.”

Noah heard the grim determination in the man’s voice and opened the door to lend support.

“He kept his fur flat and his tail high,” Ian said. “You know what he was like when we found him.” He caught sight of Noah and stuttered to a halt.

Lady Freydis opened and shut her mouth a few times. “We play at things,” she finally said airily. “It’s like roleplaying. I play a fairy princess and Ian plays a werewolf, like Callum and Jeanette.”

“Fairy princess?” Noah said limply. He glanced at Ian and flinched. The man looked like he’d killed too many people and was glaring at Lady Freydis like he wanted to add her to the total.

“I would be very grateful if you could consider Callum’s feelings in this, your highness,” Ian snapped before bowing, spinning on his heel and storming off.

Noah looked blankly at Lady Freydis. “Fairy Princess?” he repeated.

“Twinkle,” she said brightly.

You can read the story from the beginning here

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